i'm sorry for all the plates i didn't clear

Jake is having his first formula-free-for-all today. I knew it was coming, as he was up every two hours last night, and I felt like I ran a marathon this morning. When he was strictly breastfed, these eat fests would leave me thirsty and hungry, and about 5 or 6 pounds lighter than i started my day with. Jake and I would be attached at the hip (among other places) all day, and I got absolutely nothing done. There was no way to measure exactly how much he was eating, but I knew it was a lot. With the formula, I know how much he is eating, and also how much he is wasting.

I am sitting in front of two ounces of expired formula. What Jake doesn't eat it in an hour's time is officially trash. I paid good money for this, I stood in the kitchen and made it while Jake cried in the living room, and now I have to throw it away, all the while thinking, "Two ounces! You can't finish two ounces? There is an entire ounce more than two ounces of gin in the glass at which we were both staring at while you pretended to eat. I'll have no trouble downing that in a second. The second you let me up". Friday afternoons like these call for a G&T, or in this case a G&G&G&T, with a bit of lime juice to prevent scurvy. The other perk of formula is that when Jake hits the bottle I can hit the bottle. Dave's bottle actually, but who is keeping score. This is a marriage where we share, and I don't think that Dave appreciates the Hendrick's.

We are taking a break now, and Jake is happily staring at his toys that hang overhead in his little gym. I think I have about an hour to pick up the house, flip the laundry from washer to dryer, brush my teeth and hair just in case I didn't this morning, and catch up on internet stuff. My goal for the day was to get my closet in order, purging it of all maternity wear and hanging my normal person clothes. Some of my clothes look so tiny and will be relegated to the back until my hips put themselves back together and my shirts are able to reach my waist again. What I affectionately call "Jake's Diner" ("Jake's Dinor" for you Erieites) are shrinking a little since I am only breastfeeding at night, but are still too big for most of my tops, and a lot of my shirts look like midrifts. Not the look I'm going for, despite its popularity in my neighborhood.

And, I'm off to try to get some grown up things done. Wish me luck, and finish your dinner tonight, or at least wrap it up for lunch tomorrow. Someone likely worked really hard to feed you.